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Wounded Memories

~ Anonymous place to let spill my wounded memories

Wounded Memories

Monthly Archives: August 2014

Dreams and Nightmares

09 Saturday Aug 2014

Posted by woundedmemories in Dreams, Poetry

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Dreams, Nightmares, Poetry

Dreams
That aren’t dreams
Instead
Nightmares

The way
They pull me open
Tear me apart
And flip me inside out

Each night
A visit to the past
A reminder of horrors
Done to me
Done by me

Doors
I cannot close
Windows
I cannot look away from

Each bitter
Midnightmare
Eating a bit more
Of who I am

Carve Me

09 Saturday Aug 2014

Posted by woundedmemories in Poetry

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Poetry

Carve me up
Empty me out
Then fill me
With pieces of you

I have nothing inside
I want to keep
But you
I can’t seem to get
Enough of you

I need something
To remind me of you
For when you leave
And I’m left alone
Once again

Need

08 Friday Aug 2014

Posted by woundedmemories in Poetry

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Love, Poetry

I see in your eyes
A light
That cuts through my dark

I feel in your touch
A warmth
That breaks through my cold

I taste in your lips
A love
That silences my hate

Please don’t look away
I need your light

Please don’t pull away
I need your warmth

Please don’t stop
Kissing me
I need
I ache
For your love

Reaching Out

08 Friday Aug 2014

Posted by woundedmemories in Poetry

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I reach for a hand
That never reaches back
Not because it can’t
But because
It doesn’t know how
So I slip
So I fall
So I drift
Too far away
I’ve fallen before
Each time
Harder than the last
I think I’ll survive
I always have
I guess until
That time I won’t

I See Your Sorrow

08 Friday Aug 2014

Posted by woundedmemories in Poetry

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I see the sorrow
Hidden
Within your eyes

Buried beneath
A beautiful smile
And soft little cries

I hear the pain
Hidden
With your voice

A melancholy melody
That no longer knows
How to rejoice

I feel the ache
Hidden
Under your fingertips

Let me soothe
Away your suffering
With my trembling lips

I’m lost

08 Friday Aug 2014

Posted by woundedmemories in Poetry

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Lost, Poetry

I’m lost
But that’s a lie
Isn’t it

The truth is
I know where I am
I just wish
This wasn’t it

Lost
Is where I wish I was
Away from here
Away from anywhere

For as long
As I can remember
I’ve always been
Where I shouldn’t

Some
By my own hands
Some
By hands not my own

Maybe it isn’t
That I’m lost
Maybe it’s that
I’m looking for you

Tides

07 Thursday Aug 2014

Posted by woundedmemories in Poetry

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Pull me
Push me
Drown me
Save me

Your tide pulling
Against me
My tide pushing
Against you

Sometimes it feels
Like I am just drifting
Alone in this ocean
That we sometimes call life

But then I feel it
Your pull on me
Your tide
Colliding with mine

If I drown
at least it will be
By your waves
Crashing through me

Pulling me under
And suddenly
I don’t feel
Quite so alone

I Keep Falling

06 Wednesday Aug 2014

Posted by woundedmemories in Poetry

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dark, Poetry

I feel like I’m falling
Down
~and further away

I keep reaching out
Gripping
~but nothing to hold

I try to scream out
Silence
~nothing left to say

I don’t feel anymore
Nothing
~but waves of cold

I have no idea what’s
Below
~maybe just darkness

I think it will be forever
Midnight
~ no moon and starless

 

Not Even a Ripple on the Pond

05 Tuesday Aug 2014

Posted by woundedmemories in Musings

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Nothing

I’m an odd mix of either caring too much, or not caring at all. I know this sounds cliché, but I take it to extremes unfortunately. Something either has no affect on me, or it guts me to the core.

If you are someone I care about, for what ever reason, I care deeply. This can be love, friendship, or simply that I feel connected to or relate to you. In either case, I care about you. If you are someone I don’t like, I don’t just dislike you, I despise you, hate you.

If you don’t fall into one of these extremes, you fall into a third. Nothing. I feel nothing towards you, you have no impact in my life. You aren’t even a ripple in my pond.

So when someone that is somehow, someway, in my orbit forgets about me, it affects me. It is a fate far worse than hate. It means I’m nothing to you. I’m not even a ripple in your pond. And this guts me. More than it should.

If it sounds too much, consider this: if we are the sum of our memories, then remembering you is akin to saying you are a part of me.

If I am not remembered, then I am a part of nothing. Not even a ripple on a pond.

We Never Become Un-broken Do We

03 Sunday Aug 2014

Posted by woundedmemories in Musings

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Life, musings

A while back an injured bird was hanging out outside my window for a few weeks.

After about a week, when it could fly again (I saw it take a few short flights, up to a tree, back down), it didn’t leave. It just stayed there in that general area, never gone for more than an hour.

It was as of it forgot what life was like before it was broken.

I thought to myself how curiously similar this is to us humans, out at least some of us humans. Once we are broken, it feels like we are always broken.

I did say a few weeks didn’t I? The bird eventually died. Maybe the injuries were worse than I thought, and I just saw metaphors where there were none.

Either way I related with that bird and was sad when it died. Not that it died, that’s natural. But that it forgot how to live, and I wonder far too often if I haven’t forgotten as well.

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